One Night in the Gardens
by DocWho999
Summary: Follows Tom Riddle from St. Wool's all the way to his death. He and Emrys, descendent of Merlin and heir to Gryffindor, meet and befriend each other as small children. This story is my explanation for why Harry is the 'Chosen One' and not Neville, as was suggested to have been possible in the fifth book. It also gives a bit more backstory as to why and when Tom officially snapped.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This story is in response to a question from a friend of mine. She wanted to know why, if it could have been either Harry or Neville as the Chosen One, why on Earth did Voldemort pick the half-blood boy as the threat over Neville? I thought about her question for a while and this story developed. It follows Tom Riddle from age six all the way to his death at the end of _Deathly Hallow_ _s_.

For those of you waiting for updates on my other fics, I thank you for your patience and continued support and I assure you that it will be rewarded soon as I am working on updates for both _Watson's Angel_ and _Ms. Jekyll and the Iron Princess._

Enjoy :)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series.

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It was a particularly cold Christmas Eve morning when 5-year-old Tom Riddle (soon to be six) was disturbed by a peculiar knock at his bedroom door. Startled, from his relaxed pose on his bed the young boy jerked his gaze from the snow collecting on his windowsill to the worn wood of the locked door currently preventing the would-be-intruder from entering his sanctuary. ' _Curious_ ', he thought, for it was unusual for someone - _anyone_ , really - to seek him out. Cocking his head slightly to the left, he watched the door fully expecting to hear an unknown voice calling out someone else's name. Even if his company _was_ desired by someone (which he deemed to be extremely unlikely), certainly no one from St. Wool's would be stupid enough as to try and grab his attention while his door was quite clearly closed. And everyone in the orphanage knew very well that this was _his_ door. Thus, the person who had knocked must be an outsider.

' _Odd, why have they yet to disturb another orphan's morning with their knocking?'_ he wondered. But as nothing but silence followed the knock, Tom was about ready to assume that whoever the person was, they had realized their mistake - because even someone whom he had never met couldn't possibly have been looking for _him_. After all, his own _father_ had never met him, and as far as Tom knew, the man had never darkened the doors of St. Wool's. But he had given up that daydream years ago at the very mature age of four. Bored, he was just about to look back out his window at the lightly falling snow when the knock came again. This time, Tom sat up fully, swinging his legs around so they were off the side of the bed and he was fully facing the door.

"Excuse me," came the voice from the hall. It sounded like that of a young girl - which was incredibly surprising to Tom because, as rare an occurrence as it was for someone to come looking for him, it was almost unheard of for said person to be a little girl. Especially one who didn't sound frightened - no, this one just sounded impatient. "Excuse me!" came the girl's voice again. "You are Tom Riddle, aren't you?" she asked, though from her tone of voice, she clearly already knew the answer.

Too surprised by the entire situation, Tom replied with a tentative, "Yes, that's me," before resuming his stock-still posture as he stared at the door in front of him.

"Look, I know it's early in the morning, but we're all waiting for you downstairs," the girl informed him.

Confused, Tom stood up, and opened the door only to find himself face-to-face with a very pretty girl about his age, and a good few inches shorter than himself. Her black hair was somewhat wavy and shoulder length and she had that rosy complexion that came from recently standing outside in the cold. Her eyes were a bright violet and they positively twinkled with mirth and wit. He'd never seen someone with eyes like that before.

But what truly surprised him was her reaction to his stare. Instead of cowering under his impassive gaze, she put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to look him straight in the eyes. No one - not even an adult - had ever looked him in the eyes without quickly backing down. Most became shifty-eyed as though they were trying to plot an escape route.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he took her confidence as a personal challenge. He wanted to see how cold and emotionless he would have to get in order to unnerve her. Because of this, he fixed her with his iciest glare and spoke in a toneless voice: "Why, exactly, would anyone be waiting for me downstairs?"

Seemingly unmoved by his personality, the girl fixed him with a look that quite clearly stated 'Isn't it obvious?' as she replied, "The excursion to the Gardens…" She said it quite slowly, in the same condescending manner and tone that Tom himself often used when forced to explain something simple to someone with less brains than he. This confused him further because, for one, he had never met anyone with a sufficient level of intelligence to pull off that attitude when speaking with him, and two, he had never met a girl with a proclivity for condescension. All the girls he knew had been taught to be proper and polite.

Yet, he had never heard of an excursion taking place today, so, feeling extremely dim, Tom asked, "What are you talking about?" It was only after the words had left his mouth that he realized he hadn't asked it with quite the amount of venom he had intended to use. The girl smirked, as though she knew what he was thinking. ' _Am I really that obvious?_ ' Tom thought.

"Yes, you really are," the girl said.

Bewildered, Tom thought to himself, ' _Did I say that out loud?_ '

Briefly too consumed with his own thoughts as he replayed the past few seconds, desperately trying to figure out how he hadn't noticed himself physically asking that question of the girl, Tom didn't notice the brief look of utter terror on her face as she realized what she had just done. ' _Mum and Dad'll kill me if they find out,_ ' she thought before quickly schooling her features to mask her internal thoughts.

"Anyway," she continued, "Mrs. Cole sent me to come get you so we can head out. I'm not sure if she didn't mention it to you or if you just weren't listening, but we're going to spend the day in Kensington Gardens." She stood there, looking at him expectantly.

Tom, who couldn't remember the last time someone had ever dared take that tone with him, decided the girl's cocky, self-assured mentality was more than just a momentary slip-up in her manners training. He actually found it quite refreshing to find someone whose external running commentary matched his own inner thoughts. "Isn't it a bit cold outside for something like that?" he asked.

The girl rolled her eyes at him. "It's never too cold for an adventure in the Gardens!" she said excitedly. She ignored his raised eyebrow at her enthusiasm and gestured at the wardrobe in the corner of his room. "Perhaps you should put on your winter things so we can get going." She had phrased it like a suggestion, but Tom knew very well that it was not. So, for the first time in his life, he found himself following someone else's orders.

She took a few steps inside his room, watching him grab his winter attire. ' _What, does she think I'll just lay down and go back to sleep if she doesn't physically stand there and watch me?_ ' he wondered. The girl smirked, unnerving him slightly. ' _Who is this girl, anyway?_ '

"My name's Emrys. Emrys Doric."

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 **Author's Note:** I have more installments ready, but they're not in order yet. I'll post them when I can :)

Reviews are welcome


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Enjoy :)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series.

* * *

Once he was properly dressed for a winter's day outing, Emrys impatiently grabbed him by the hand and all but dragged the flabbergasted boy downstairs. No one came looking for him. No one interrupted him when his door was shut. No one looked at him without fear. No one spoke to him with playful condescension in their tone. This strange and ridiculous girl had already broken the first _four_ cardinal rules of surviving an encounter with him, but damn it all if she wasn't going to go and break the fifth. No one - _no one_ \- touched Tom Riddle.

With the obvious exception of, apparently, Emrys Doric.

"Today is going to be _brilliant_!" the raven-haired girl squealed as she yanked Tom's reticent form down the stairs of the orphanage. It wasn't that he was opposed to going to the Gardens - or even that he was opposed to doing so in the bitter cold. No, _his_ problem was the small girl who clearly had no concern for his personal opinions, proclivities, or space. And what's more, he was sure that in spite of the seemingly unwitting way in which she'd shattered his plans for a quiet morning, she had known exactly what she was doing all the while. And he had so been looking forward to a peaceful day away from other people and the mask of tolerance towards idiots that he felt compelled to wear around them.

When they'd finally reached the main foyer of St. Wool's, Tom barely managed to conceal his grimace upon seeing the throng of excited children. He knew their excitement would quickly disappear, only to be replaced by whines and moans of complaint about the freezing cold. These children - of whom Tom was sure he would never grow fond - were congregating around Mrs. Cole and two people he had never seen before. He could only assume they were husband and wife based on their physical proximity to one another. And based upon the ink-black hair of the mother, they were related in some fashion to Emrys.

Before Tom could ask the girl about the couple, Mrs. Cole turned to the pair, threw her hands up in the air, and exclaimed, "Oh! Tom, Emrys! Wonderful," at this word, she clapped her hands together and clasped them, appraising the two before continuing, "Now that you're both here, we can all set off." The matron spun around to face the other children and began ushering them outside with the help of the ginger man and his wife. "Come along, children," Mrs. Cole shouted out, "Remember to stick to your partner, we don't want anyone to get lost."

Tom snorted in derision. Emrys, who was still pulling him along by his left hand, smirked. "I know - having a partner by no means ensures you won't get lost."

Laughing, Tom replied, "I hadn't thought of that, honestly - though it is a good point. I was actually thinking that it might be rather nice if we _did_ lose a few of them."

He expected a look of shock to cross her face. He expected her to recoil from him like she'd just been scalded with boiling water. Those were the things normal people did when he made comments like that. Instead, she did the completely unexpected. She laughed. "I suppose it's a good thing we're all in pairs then," she said, "It'll make it much easier to 'lose' people if we can do it two-by-two." She broke down in a fit of giggles after she'd finished.

For once in his very young life, Tom Riddle smiled. A real, true, genuine smile. Against all odds, he actually liked another human being. This strange and ridiculous girl was unlike anyone he had ever met before. And he liked her.

The two continued down the sidewalk, following the gaggle of children ranging all age groups down the icy pavement. And while the rest of the group moaned about the temperature, Tom and Emrys walked along laughing about nothing in particular. And neither one paid any mind to the state of the weather around them.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I have more installments ready, but they're not in order yet. I'll post them when I can :)

Reviews are welcome


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Enjoy :)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series.

* * *

Finally recovered from their respective fits of laughter, Tom decided it was time to speak up. "So, that man and woman up there - the married couple - who are they?"

Pointing to the tall man with flaming red hair and a short, curly beard, "That's my dad, Gregor Doric," and pointing to the frankly, stunning woman next to the man, "And that's my mum, Violet."

"Interesting," Tom said.

"What is?"

"Well," he began, "her name is Violet, even though you are the only one out of the three of you to actually warrant such a name."

The small girl laughed lightly - to Tom, her light and airy laughter sounded almost like music - before responding, "True. But by the time I came along, the name was already taken."

"Ah," Tom said, bitterly, "So your parents had the good taste to give you a name of your own, then?" He hated that he was forced to bear the name of his father. What was the use in being named in honor of a man who, quite probably, had no desire to have any involvement whatsoever in his existence?

Instead of immediately turning sympathetic or backtracking at the unintentional blunder, Emrys just nodded in understanding. "You were named for your father, then? Sorry about that. Though I do quite like the name 'Tom'. And of course, the last name is completely unavoidable - though, in your case, it's quite applicable as well."

Though internally Tom was struggling with the idea that this girl didn't react to things the way everyone else did - was this how people felt around him when he slipped up and acted like a 'freak'? - he couldn't help himself from responding to her last comment. "I think my last name might suit you far better. You are, after all, quite the enigma."

Emrys stopped dead in her tracks, causing Tom to be yanked backward toward her as a result of still being joined by their hands. She stared at him, thinking for a moment, before smiling widely, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Why, Tom Riddle," she said, her tone making it clear that she was teasing him, "are you flirting with me?"

Realizing the implications of his previous comment, Tom couldn't help the embarrassed blush from blooming on the tips of his ears. "I-I…" he looked around wildly, trying to find something - anything - that would change the subject, "I think we've arrived at the Gardens," he exclaimed, pointing to the sign up ahead. The rest of the children were already clambering past one another to get inside.

She knew exactly what he was doing, but decided to let it go for the moment, choosing to become preoccupied instead with the sight of Kensington Gardens in all its winter glory. "Do you think we could manage to stay here past Lock-Out Time? You know, like in that Peter Pan story?" she asked.

Relieved that she'd so easily moved on, Tom shook his head in response to her question. "No. Though I doubt very much that my presence would be missed, even if it were to be noted, I'm quite sure that your parents would come looking for you."

Sighing, "I suppose you're right - even though they'd know very well what I was doing and why I was doing it." She paused in contemplation before turning back to the boy next to her. "Do you want to help me hunt for fairies?"

For some reason, the Humbug in Tom must have decided to take the day off because the soon-to-be six-year-old didn't have the heart to spoil her fun. She was practically bouncing on her toes she was so excited by her own suggestion. "Sure," he smiled, "why not?"

Squealing, Emrys threw both arms around Tom's neck in a tight hug before grabbing his hand again and pulling him along into Kensington Gardens.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I have more installments ready, but they're not in order yet. I'll post them when I can :)

Reviews are welcome


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Enjoy :)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series.

* * *

At some point in the afternoon, the two children could be found lying in the wake of their snow angels near the Serpentine in the Gardens. The remnants of the sack lunches that had been handed to them just as they passed through the gates were strewn about the snow. This, of course, included the wrappers of several Turkish delights that Emrys had convinced her parents should rightfully be eaten by Tom and herself. And there, lying on her back in the snow in her winter frock, the girl was currently lounging about in a very unlady-like position. But neither child (nor, in truth, the Doric adults who watched the pair from a distance with amused smiles on their faces) gave one whit about that.

The two children had previously been engaged in a very serious discussion about the merits of various models of snow forts when Tom chose to ask a more personal question of his newfound friend (a word he had never before applied to anyone, but one which he had subconsciously given to the girl next to him). "Em, why are you and your parents on this excursion with us today?" After the briefest of pauses, Tom added the clarifying, "I'm glad you're here, I mean, but it _is_ odd. We don't get many visitors at the orphanage. Especially not ones that take us out on excursions and bring along their impossible daughters."

Laughing at the jibe, she nonetheless elected to give Tom a straight answer. "Well, my parents are involved on the board of this boarding school in Scotland. And every year, they go to different orphanages to scout potential scholarship candidates." At Tom's surprised look, she continued, "I mean, they _say_ this is a way to give back to the community. That it will make us appreciate what we have more. And maybe that's part of it - that's actually probably part of it. But the practical side of it is the school thing." She smirked, "Well, for them anyway. I'm honestly just here for the Gardens."

Tom's face couldn't seem to decide if it was shocked or amused. "You know, most people wouldn't have added that last bit. I appreciate your candor, to be honest. You don't try to dance around the fact that you have both your parents while the rest of us have none and you don't adopt that annoying posture of pity." Smiling for what must have been the billionth time that day, Tom confided, "I feel like I don't have to pretend around you, Em."

"I'd be offended if you felt you did," she replied. "You know, I've never understood why people like pity and sympathy - empathy, yes, but the other two? Why should I feel sorry for something over which I have no control?"

Tom nodded his agreement.

"I tried to get my parents to agree we should take you lot Christmas caroling, but Mrs. Cole vetoed it, apparently. I don't know why - I mean, I could easily do all the solos. I have a lovely singing voice, if I do say so myself," Em commented.

"I should like to hear it sometime, then," Tom replied, absentmindedly. His gaze lazily shifted toward the little garden snake that was winding its way toward him. " ** _Hello, little snake,_** " Tom hissed, " ** _Isn't it a bit cold for you to slither about?_** "

The snake shook its head before it replied, " ** _You would think, wouldn't you? But alas, I have become used to it._** "

"You can talk to snakes?" came the slightly surprised voice from behind Tom. This, of course, was quite odd because most people, upon discovering that Tom could speak to snakes, were considerably more than _slightly_ surprised. In fact, most attempted to turn tail and run for the metaphorical hills as far off into the distance as possible.

Tom nodded, looking at his new (read: only) friend apprehensively, waiting for the other shoe to drop. ' _She's going to run. Or call me a 'Freak'. Or possibly - probably - both_ ,' he thought.

Looking at him steadily, Emrys said, "It doesn't frighten me - I actually think it's pretty neat." Pause. "I can talk to dragons," she stated, as if that were a perfectly normal thing to say.

The two children just looked at each other in silence for a minute before breaking down with laughter. Neither child had ever felt this at ease with another human being before.

Evening had long since rolled in by the time the group found its way back to St. Wool's. As Em and Tom entered the building, they were treated to the ear-piercing scream of an infant that was either tired or hungry or in need of changing. Or just plain bored. Emrys rolled her eyes and said, with false-sincerity, "Just think, next year she'll be old enough to annoy us with actual words instead of meaningless, high-pitched screams."

After recovering from the shock that she had so fluidly included him in her plans for next year, he asked, "Is that your sister?" At the nod of her head, he continued, "What's her name?"

"Rose," she said, "Because of her red hair. Precious, isn't it?" The sarcasm dripped off her voice in droves. Tom couldn't stifle his laughter. After gently whacking him upside the head, Emrys told him, "My parents thought it would be too cold for her outside, so they left her with one of the nurses here." Then, "Personally, I'm choosing to think of it as an early birthday present," she joked. The two children had discovered that their birthdays were but one day apart - his on New Years' Eve and hers at the dawn of the new calendar.

As the children around them scurried off to bed to ensure that Father Christmas wouldn't skip them over, Tom grimaced at their high-pitched squeals of excitement. "I'll never get any sleep tonight - they're always far too loud on Christmas Eve. It's funny but that old story had always left me with the impression that one needs to be _asleep_ before Father Christmas would deign to enter through the chimney."

Teasingly, "Maybe the sugar plums give them headaches when they dance about the insides of their skulls and they have to yell at them to knock it off," Emrys suggested. The two children nearly collapsed onto the floor from laughter at the very idea.

"Emmie, dear," Violet Doric called softly, "it's time to go home." Gregor stood behind his wife with his left hand on her right shoulder and his right hand extended out toward his daughter. For her part, Violet held her eight-month-old daughter in her arms and smiled toward the two children.

Reluctantly, they each relinquished their hold on each other's hand. Emrys hugged Tom tightly around the neck and whispered, "I'd like to think we'll see each other soon, but I can't promise it. If all else fails, I'll see you September 1st of the year we start secondary school." And with that cryptic message, she kissed him on the cheek and darted off to join her parents.

Tom remained standing there, under the mistletoe he hadn't even noticed was hanging over his head, until Mrs. Cole came by to usher him to bed two and a half hours later.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I have more installments ready, but they're not in order yet. I'll post them when I can :)

Reviews are welcome


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Enjoy :)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Harry Potter_ series.

* * *

Years went by - years of utter loneliness. The children at school and at the orphanage were idiots. So were the adults, for that matter. His only real use for any of them was for his own personal amusement. He'd toy with them by moving objects without touching them, speaking 'surreptitiously' to snakes when they were around just to freak them out, and of course, inflicting pain. He didn't do the latter very often - after all, he had many other methods at his disposal in terms of retribution over nasty remarks. But when one of the children would bring _her_ up and call _her_ a 'freak', too...well let's just say he wasn't about to let that slide.

Sometimes he'd take souvenirs from these little games of his - that's what the psychiatrists called them anyway. Souvenirs. In reality, that's not how Tom saw them at all. Tom was always one to understand the meaning of things - especially in relation to people. So when Tom took a 'souvenir' from one of the other children, it wasn't because he was a 'budding psychopath' or that he displayed 'sadistic characteristics' or any of the other terms the doctors liked to throw around. He took those specific things from those specific people because he knew it would piss them off. And Tom loved very few things in this world more than riling up the idiots with whom he was forced to associate.

God, how he missed intelligent conversation.

He hadn't seen her since that one Christmas Eve, all those years ago. And though he was disappointed by that fact, he wasn't exactly surprised. She _had_ warned him. And so, with this last little bit of his naivety firmly clinging to the idea that he would indeed see her again on the first day of secondary school, Tom Riddle counted down the days until September 1st. Over the years he'd dreamed up various scenarios of how that would work out - the most logical being that she'd convinced her parents to persuade that fancy boarding school in Scotland to give him a scholarship and the most fanciful being that she'd somehow show up in front of the orphanage riding a great, green dragon. Either way, when September 1st rolled around, he was sure he would finally stop feeling so alone.

Tom had never minded being alone before he'd met Emrys - and to be honest, he still preferred it to the company of the other children he knew - but now, he couldn't stop himself from thinking that his life would be made considerably better if she were in it once more.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Tom sat at the table in his room, staring out his window into the very wet streets of London. ' _July 31st - only one month and a day to go_ ,' he thought to himself as he watched the rain come down in sheets and blur the view through his windowpanes.

When Mrs. Cole (drunk as usual despite the clock having barely struck noon) knocked on his door, he didn't even bother to turn around to see what she wanted. She must have brought another doctor - that was the only reason anyone ever knocked on his door these days. Now that Emrys wasn't around. He vaguely registered her speaking to him - introducing the person she'd brought with her, most likely - but he really couldn't bring himself to care. This doctor would say what Mrs. Cole wanted him to say. This doctor would join the already long list of other doctors who had, essentially, called him a freak. But Emrys had told him that she, too could move things without touching them. She was smart and funny and she was _like him_. So, if he was a freak, then so was she - and that sure as hell wasn't possible so therefore, he must not be a freak either. This doctor would be wrong just like all the others.

Throughout his conversation with the very strange man who called himself 'Professor Dumbledore', Tom remained extremely skeptical. He was convinced this was yet another doctor. Even when the man explained that he came from a special school in Scotland for people with magic - and that Tom had magic - Tom was sure this was some sort of prank. After all, it was July 31st, and he wasn't expecting anything significant to happen until September.

So when Dumbledore set the wardrobe on fire, Tom's first thought (after recovering from the initial shock of seeing something spontaneously combust) was, ' _Holy Hell - does this mean she really_ can _speak to dragons?_ '

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 **Author's Note:** Sorry the short chapter - we've now reached the point in the story where I have some installment gaps. It will probably take me a few days to write those, but I should have them up later in the week.

Reviews are welcome


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